


Absolute

by rosarycrown



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, There is nothing here but pain be warned, its not shippy it is of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 22:50:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosarycrown/pseuds/rosarycrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of Castiel, who loved one soul too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolute

**Author's Note:**

> i was reading proxyfic's stuff and i managed to work myself into heartbreak

He would give anything and everything for Dean.

There was no doubt, only absolute, in Castiel’s mind with this. There is nothing that he would refuse to give this man, for this beautiful, righteous soul – Dean was his center, beyond his Father (no matter how wrong this was, how against every instinct he’d ever had; Dean had done the same, been forced to accept that perhaps there was more than such a figure) and beyond the universe, beyond the stars.

Love, he loved, he loved so much that his entirety ached with it, pored it from his vessel and poured it from his heart and mind, from the very Grace that made him and the very humanity that ruined him.

Angels were created to love.

To love their Father and praise him, praise his creation, praise everything of his own and carry out his will. This was absolute as well, save for singular cases that simply fled and rebelled, save for one dear Archangel who could not love a human more than his Father despite that being his Father’s will.

The Angels didn’t doubt from then, not for millennia. They sang songs of praise and did as needed to create their Father’s design.

Castiel had a hole.

He held humanity in a higher regard than even his orders, tried for them and gave more than he should – too much heart, they said, whispered in the cracks between Heavens – but he stayed true to his Father for century upon century.

.

He touched a soul in Hell, a beautiful soul, the most Righteous of souls.

There was a brand left there, a singular handprint on shoulder that gave so little cause for pause or question. This one mark that sat in skin, brighter red and raised.  
Who would guess that this was the beginning of the end?

.

This man, this bright beautiful soul, had a name.

 _Dean_.

He began to care for Dean, and there were whispers – too much heart, he’s come to be affectionate with his charge, he’s too close – in the cracks of Heaven and in the winds of Earth. The plan that had been so carefully crafted throughout eternity began to be questioned, deep in his mind, from the heart and will of this man, this soul, this Dean.

He nearly broke, speaking and telling.

Heaven called him home.

.

( _It didn’t feel like home_ )

.

In a beautiful room, ornate and lovely and designed for its captive, Castiel came when an angel fell.

It was a simple statue – and perhaps it was symbolic, perhaps he simply need not ask. He would fight the one soul he was already losing himself for, and return in silence, stealing a knife and declaring himself a rebel with actions and heart and _love_. He would cut himself, cut whatever need be, and give a chance to a soul who wished only to save the world.

.

He would die, for the first time of three, protecting a soul he would say was for humanity.

.

In another world, an alternate reality, he would follow this soul to his death and be pleased with it, and be even more pleased to see a version of the soul that he had originally fallen for.

.

In an alleyway, he would admit to both himself and to his charge that this was all for him, all for this one soul that Castiel couldn’t stray from. He would run, hide, scour corners of the Earth for his Father and for his path and always, always ended here, pressed too close to the righteous man whom had lost his sanctity to so many angels.

In an alleyway, he would be forced to speak in anger, in fury and love, though he would not yet know just why this mattered so much.

He knew he loved; he loved all of humanity, he loved humans and their precious world. HE loved the birds, he loved the sky, he loved all of creation.

.

( _He loved this soul more_ )

.

In a field, he would die for the second time of three, screaming at a brother and buying so little time to allow this soul to help save the world.

**He burned.**

.

In a breaking world with his precious charge’s brother left soulless by his own design, Castiel would make a deal with the closest thing to the devil that was free. He would take on something that was never supposed to be touched, was supposed to be left sacred, and lie.

He would lie to the soul he treasured most in desperate attempt to save what little was left of the place he was told to call home and perhaps save his favorite soul in the process.

It hurt to sin and it hurt more to not be truthful to this, to this need he held for someone that he should only love in regards to the general humanity. There was nothing that he had a right to love more than another save for his brothers and sisters and, reluctant, his allies.

Free will, perhaps, was too free – he should not stray, he should not have such a skewed balance of love.

.

He would become **God**.

.

 **He would ruin the world**.

.

He would die again.

.

He would _love_.


End file.
